


The Dancer and The Fallen Prince

by Fluffypanda



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gladiators, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Dark Thor (Marvel), Exhibitionism, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, M/M, No Sex, Non-Consensual Groping, Sort Of, dancer Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 22:11:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13222254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluffypanda/pseuds/Fluffypanda
Summary: Tony is lost, stuck in a land of vikings and magic. He is enslaved and trained to be a dancer, until he steps too far out of line.Now condemned to the arena, Tony is fighting for his life when he catches the reigning champion's eye.





	The Dancer and The Fallen Prince

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyOwO](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOwO/gifts).



> Ladytanksalot requested: "I do love myself some BAMF!Tony and maybe a bit of non-human Tony. I love my Frostiron chill with a Touch of spiciness ;) The right amount of Fluff and smut."
> 
> I'm not sure I really hit the mark, but hopefully this story touches on at least some of that! I hope you like it!
> 
> Warning: Along with implied off-screen non-consensual groping, there is a bit of simulated noncon/dubcon, but no actual sex happens, more details in the end note.

A sharp clatter reached Tony where he knelt in the center of the dirty cell they threw him in. He looked up to see the red and gold of his gauntlets, lying on the floor where the guard tossed them. Tony immediately snatched them up and cradled them to his chest. He breathed a sigh of relief, as ridiculous that it was in his current situation, glad to see a long lost piece of his former self.

Getting part of his suit back wasn’t exactly what he expected when he woke up in a dungeon after finally pushing his masters too far. Tony put the gauntlets on and hooked them up to the ports in his arc reactor under the disinterested gaze of the guard from the doorway. The gauntlets were exactly as they were when they stripped them from him however many months ago that he arrived in this pseudo-archaic hellhole, strangely inert. Tony swallowed his disappointment.

“Stand.” The guard punctuated his command with a stamp of his staff.

Tony rose to his feet, by this point knowing better than to fight him. The guard pulled Tony out of the cell where they were joined by a second guard. They marched Tony down a series of hallways that were markedly different than every other one he’d seen in his time in Asgard due to the distinct lack of gold surfaces and windows.

At last they reached a wide gate, which Tony was promptly pushed through. It slammed down behind him as he stumbled out into an open, sandy area. He managed to go a few feet into the space, but not a step further as a wall of shimmering gold blocked his path.

The space was framed with swooping golden columns, woven together like a basket around the arena floor. Behind the columns, spectators in armor leaned against carved stone balustrades a full story above the arena. An unfortunately familiar blond and muscular Viking lounged in what looked to be the medieval equivalent of a luxury box, feasting and drinking tankards of something frothy with his pals.

Tony shivered at the phantom sensation of those hands across his skin, hoping vindictively that they choked on a bone and died. Not that he would get a chance to see it even if one of them did, because he now realized he’d just been sent to his execution. He was going to have to fight to the death.

Five other people stood at various points around the arena, standing in front of doors similar to Tony’s. Most of them looked human enough, though Tony learned the hard way that these sons of bitches were freakishly strong. But the one closest to Tony was an ugly bastard with bright orange multifaceted eyes and purple-grey fur covering the entirety of his muscular body.

Tony noted that every one of them was protected by battle-worn armor and armed with weapons that clearly had seen some use. That explained why they gave Tony his gauntlets back, though he hadn’t been given something to replace his dancer’s outfit, which showed more skin than not.

Everyone, from the people in the stands to the other contenders, had their attention focused on the man directly across from Tony. He cut a dramatic figure with his ragged green coat, the collar of which was lined with white fur, and his broken-horned crown framing his raven black hair. He stood tall, a pair of daggers held loosely in his hands, his relaxed posture radiating confidence as he examined each of the contenders appraisingly. When he came to Tony he paused, his gaze sweeping up and down Tony’s body before moving on to the next fighter.

Without warning, a loud horn sounded and the force field dropped. Tony felt his gauntlets roar to life, buzzing with power from his arc reactor. While the others went for the beggar king, Ugly locked on to Tony, clearly thinking he had an easy target.

Tony might be as good as dead, if not by the hand of this freak, then by another, but he burned with rage at the injustice of it all.

Just when he was turning his life around, he’d been inexplicably thrown into an impossible world populated with armored Vikings about three-hundred times stronger than him. They defeated him laughably easily, rendering his armor useless and stripping him of his status.

His captors had taken one look at the light in his chest and “slender” body and decided he was to be a dancer, an object on display for their pleasure. After months of being forced to cater to their whims, they dropped him in front of a bunch of killers just for slapping Blond-and-Brawny’s hand away.

He wanted to scream at the universe for letting this happen to him, for leaving him to such a cruel fate. He wasn’t going to let his impending death get in the way of letting out a bit of that rage.

Ugly raised his sword, and Tony lunged forward, his damn dancer’s costume streaming behind him, slowing him down as some of the gauzy cloth wrapped around his legs. The blade nearly came down on him, but months of training as a dancer had rendered Tony nimble, and he shielded himself with one gauntlet.

The blow landed heavily across Tony’s forearm, wrenching his shoulder painfully. At the very same moment, Tony fired his repulsors into Ugly’s chest. Ugly stumbled back with a look of surprise in his glittering eyes, his armor barely scratched.

Tony didn’t wait for him to recover, he blasted forward, speeding his movements a little with the repulsors, and knocked the sword from his opponent’s hand. This time he aimed his repulsor directly in Ugly’s face. Crashing to the ground, he let out an inhuman scream as he clawed at Tony, who quickly pinned him. Balling up one armored fist, Tony punched Ugly in the temple with enough force that there was a dull crack.

Blood rushed in his ears, and he breathed heavily as he rolled off the limp body of his enemy. A short distance away, the remaining contenders were still embroiled in battle, the tall, dark-haired one having a clear advantage despite the uneven odds.

His movements as he sliced through his opponents were somehow both brutally savage and elegantly refined at once. He showed no mercy, ripping apart them with a grace many could never hope to achieve. Yet, his green eyes revealed a manic quality to the bloodshed that sent shivers down Tony’s spine. One after another, the other three fighters went down.

Tony’s heart jumped when the black-haired man turned on him. This man was a wildfire that would consume Tony, and the cheering crowd of ren-faire freaks would eat it up.

Tony was fucking dead.

With nowhere to run, Tony charged at him, still unwilling to go down without a fight. He feinted to the right, then came in from the left with his repulsors.

Tall-Dark-and-Bloody sidestepped around Tony, catching him by the wrist and effectively immobilizing him. Tony struggled, wrenching his injured shoulder further, but too high on adrenaline to care.

The asshole just hummed interestedly before reaching around Tony to trace his hand along the edge of the arc reactor. Tony shuddered instinctively, completely unprepared for the interest in the device in his chest. It was fine, better than being ripped to pieces and people touched it all the time these days, so really it was nothing; Tony could deal with it. A moment later the hand withdrew, and Tony could breathe again.

“I will take this one as my prize!” the man shouted up to the stands.

The declaration was met with a chorus of boos and hisses, some of the audience members even went so far as to throw the remains of their meals into the ring, raining down bones and vegetable scraps on them. The blonde dude that Tony pissed off stood and the noise level ratcheted up for a moment before quieting to allow him to speak.

“You think you are worthy of a prize, Loki?” Blondie boomed merrily, his sentiment echoed by a smattering of giggles from the crowd.

“It is owed to me!” Loki’s hands gripped Tony a little tighter. “It is my right as champion!”

“It is shameful that one such as yourself is champion.”

“I am champion nonetheless and choose to claim my prize.”

“I shall graciously allow it,” Norse Barbie replied after a moment of silence, looking anything but gracious about it. “Claim your prize here and now for Asgard to see.”

Loki threw Tony to the ground, pushing his face into the sand. He was much heavier than Tony expected, probably twice the weight someone that thin should have been.

Even so, Tony attempted to struggle out from underneath him, driven mostly by fear, though a spark of anger at the injustice of the whole damn thing still remained. It proved ineffective; the man simply pinned his hands to the ground, not even appearing to use his full strength.

He leaned down close to Tony’s ear and whispered, “Do as I say and your life shall be assured.”

“Fuck off,” Tony growled, but it wasn’t like had any choice in the matter, moving just wasn’t in the books with the way he was being held down.

Before Tony could fully comprehend how much shit he was in, Loki’s free hand wandered down to Tony’s hip, the other still held Tony’s hands to the ground. The cloth covering Tony’s ass was peeled away. Tony renewed his efforts to get away, hoping for a sudden burst of adrenaline-fueled strength, but his struggles were just as ineffective as before.

“Scream for me, mortal,” Loki snarled, then quietly, closer to Tony’s ear, he whispered, “We need to put on a good show.”

Loki finally let go of Tony’s hands and moved his grip to Tony’s hips. Loki pinched Tony’s side, drawing out a startled shout while simultaneously grinding down with his hips. Loki lightly thrust against Tony a few more times, his body covering Tony’s completely. It was nothing more than the gentle slide of one body against another, yet Loki groaned and trembled in pleasure. Quickly, Tony caught on and did his best to complete the illusion, groaning and shouting in time with Loki’s thrusts.

They finished their performance, not quite to the satisfaction of the crowd if their jeers were anything to go by, but well enough that it was clear they believed what they saw. Loki adjusted their clothes and got off of Tony. From the corner of his eye, Tony could see a smirk on Loki’s face, though he wasn’t sure if it was part of the act or just Loki getting a kick out of fooling everyone. It was probably both.

Suddenly the fighting ring, the audience and even the mud disappeared, leaving only Tony and Loki in the relative silence of a surprisingly well-furnished cell.

**Author's Note:**

> After fighting in the arena, Loki decides to claim Tony as his prize and is expected to rape him in front of the audience. He only pretends to do this.
> 
> If anyone thinks I haven't covered all the necessary tags, let me know!
> 
> I really love comments! So please tell me what you thought!


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